


get the gang together

by Anonymous



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - I'm Not Okay Video, F/M, everyone is a senior in this au, look ik this has been done a million times but its FUN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22326454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: reader finds her home in a gang of delinquent croquet players. what more could you want?i'm not okay mv, high school au. you know the deal.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Reader
Kudos: 34
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> mikey needs luv :(

You look at the clock above the whiteboard. Twenty minutes, just twenty minutes until you could escape the hell that most would call high school. You adjust your collar in discomfort, you started to hate the cookie-cutter attire the administration forced. Your Algebra 2 professor had let the classroom collaborate freely on a rather easy worksheet.

Only having moved here two days prior, you didn’t what was up from down in this place. Better yet, you haven’t even grown the courage to talk to anybody. It wasn't your idea of moving in your senior year, but shit happens. As if you wished it into existence, the boy next to you coughed.

You had noticed him before, obviously. He had this disastrous faux hawk, dyed black, but the sides were bleached. The ends of the hawk curled around his face in a very peculiar way.

The kid coughs again, “Hello, Earth to (Y/N)?”

You jump, confused as to how he knows your name, “Sorry, did you need something?”

“Yeah, the answers to this bullshit,” he moves his chair closer to yours, “If you couldn’t tell, I don’t exactly show up to this class.”

Doling it over in your mind, you answer, “Sure, but I’m gonna at least try and help you understand it. That sound good?”

The mystery classmate scoffs, and raises his arms in defeat, “Fine. Where do we start first, Professor…?”

“(Y/L/N),” you answer, “Seems a bit unfair that you know my full name, but I don’t even know your first?”

He looks at you, surprised, “Man, thought I had a reputation around here. Frank Iero.”

“Well, ‘if you couldn’t tell,’ I only came to this shit hole two days ago,” you struggle to not roll your eyes, “So, sorry if I don’t grovel at your feet.”

“Nah, not that kind of reputation,” Frank starts, “but I’d rather focus on the task at hand. I could explain my whole dark backstory to you after school?”

You knew that you had zero plans after school, your mom would be stuck in some boring real estate meeting until you were very asleep. But did you wanna hang out with this snarky kid with a so-called rep?

“Sure, why not.”

Were you going to regret this? Maybe. Did you have a new friend? Hell yes.

Frank smiles a toothy grin, and you notice his lip piercing. You wonder how his parents let him get away with that. Moving on from that, you begin to basically recount the entirety of the unit to him, and he gets it, to an extent. He at least gets enough to figure out the problems on his own. You couldn’t help but feel a little bit proud of your teaching skills.

The bell interrupts your conversation, and you move to pack your shit up and leave.

Before you can out your bag on, however, Frank tugs at your sleeve, “Hey, you didn't forget about our bonding sesh after school, right?”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, “I don’t even know where to meet you, kid.”

“Quit calling me kid, first off,” he gets up, putting his bag on, “Come on, I’ll walk you there. You get to meet my delinquent friends!”

Fuck, there’s more of them?


	2. Chapter 2

You begrudgingly take Frank’s hand as he leads you to the student parking lot. Even at his small stature, he’s surprisingly strong. He could probably throw you if he really felt like it.

As you guys walk, he asks you, “Listen to any music, or are you more of the classical type?”

You scoff, offended, “I don’t know what made you think that, Iero, but I don’t bump classical shit.”

He looks at you expectantly. You start, “Fine, I’ll prove myself then. Seeing as we’re in New Jersey, I listen to the Misfits. I listen to punk, like Bad Brains, and I also listen to metal, like Anthrax. That enough for you?”

Frank cocks his head at you, “Okay, color me impressed. You look like a stuck-up bitch, I’m glad to have been proved wrong. I knew the guys would like you.”

“You better list off your music taste, too,” you say, only half-joking.

“Good thing I’m forcing you to listen to my band rehearse!” He nearly skips out of the school gates.

Of course he’s in a band. He walks you out to the lines of inexpensive cars, and you stop at a red pick-up, with three very depressed looking kids in the back.

Frank curtsies as he walks up to the most depressed of the bunch, and introduces you, “I bring good tidings, sire.”

You look him up and down, taking in the usual school uniform, albeit a bit dirty and mangled. The obviously dyed black hair he dons is intriguing, and the bloodied bandage around his knee has you wanting to know more about this kid.

As you’ve been judging him, he’s been judging you. He hops down from the truck’s bed, “Who’s the chick?”

You shift uncomfortably, separating your hand from Frank’s, “Well, I’m basically this little goblin’s tutor. Seems like he doesn’t pay attention in class.”

“She’s cool. I’m inviting her to our rehearsal,” Frank starts. One of the guys, the one with curly hair, groans, “Piss off, we need a test audience, anyways.

You mutter that you didn’t sign up for this in the slightest, and the other guy in the truck bed chuckles a bit.

“Don’t I get introductions to your little posse, Frankie dear?” You purposefully rough up his faux hawk, which earns you a slap on the hand.

“Sure, if you promise to never call me that again,” he mumbles.

You throw your hands up in defeat, and Frank starts by pointing at the curly haired kid, who finger salutes.

“That’s Ray, he’s probably the chillest out of all of us. He’s mega talented at guitar, even more so than me, which is definitely saying something,” this earns a laugh from Ray, “I would normally come to him for schoolwork, but his smartass is in accelerated math.”

He points to the kid with glasses who laughed at your muttering seconds prior.

“Over here on his phone is Mikey, the baby of our so-called posse. He’s quiet, antisocial, but fucking kills it on bass. Whenever this guy does decide to share his thoughts with the world, it’s the funniest shit ever. One day you’ll witness it, if you stick around. I’m sure he’d like that.”

As soon as that last sentence leaves his smirked mouth, Mikey throws his phone at Frank’s head. Luckily, it was wrapped in a very protective case. You could swear you saw a smile on Mikey’s face.

“Jesus, Mikey! I was just joking, fuck. Remind me to never piss you off again. Moving on…”

After tossing Mikey’s phone back, Frank gestures to the guy who hopped from the bed to question your existence.

“This is our ringleader Gerard. He’s Mikey’s older brother, and our badass singer. He gets in way too many fights, loses most, but he can throw a few good punches. He’s a cunt sometimes, but I love him all the same.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Fights? You guys don’t exactly look the type to start them, more so… be on the end of them. No offense.”

Gerard actually laughs at that, “We already went through that shit, senior year is gonna be different. Whatever, you wanna hear us play? Hop in the back with Frank.”

You groan, and that causes Frank to pat you on the back, “Don’t worry, I’ll squish at the front with Gee and the Ray man. Get to know Mikey, will ya? Sweet kid.”

Sure, why not. Get to know the dude who just threw his phone at Frank’s head. He seems completely stable. Regardless, Frank helps you into the truck, and you sit opposite of Mikey. He seems pretty enthralled with whatever he’s doing on his dimmed phone.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the truck starts up, you start to feel like you do have to talk to this kid. Before you do, you try to get a proper look at him. His brown hair is all in front of his face in what seems like Misfits-inspired spikes, and his glasses go on top of it. Mikey sinks deeper into his hoodie, that of which is definitely against school dress code. He sneezes, and glances up at you. Quickly looking down, you realize that his eyes are... really pretty. What kind of guy has such long eyelashes? Is that a weird thing to think? Pushing that from your mind, you notice a pretty gruesome cut on his cheek.

“Hey, is your cheek okay?” You go to lean closer to him.

Mikey’s eyes widen and he nods a bit too fast, “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.”

Unhappy with his obvious lie of an answer, you reach into your bag for your sad excuse for a first-aid kit, “Look, I have some Neosporin. It’d make me feel a lot better if you let me clean it. Don’t want your face falling off Crypt Keeper style.”

He slightly smiles at that. You knew making a shitty horror reference would work.

“Okay, fine. If it makes you feel better, I guess?”

You move right next to him with your kit, and go to work. You notice how warm his face was when you begin to touch it. You pin it on the cool autumn weather. Putting some of your water onto a cotton pad, you get rid of the nasty blood accumulation, and begin to put the Neosporin on it. He flinches a bit, but eases into your touch. You manage to clean it all up, and put your only brand of available bandages on his face: Hello Kitty. Mikey didn’t seem to mind, or he just didn’t notice.

After a full minute of silence, he looks at you, and whispers, “Thank you, (Y/N). That was… really nice of you to offer.”

“It’s really not an issue, it looked pretty gnarly,” you push your luck and ask, “What happened to you, Mikes?”

He puts his phone down, and twiddles his thumbs, “Gee isn’t the only one that gets into fights. Well, uh, you weren’t exactly wrong about us being on the end of them? I guess it’s really just me that gets pushed around now. It’s whatever.”

You start to get a little bit angry at this, “It’s not whatever. Seriously, why don’t your friends help you? I’m sure they could mess up whoever-”

He cuts you off, rather sharply, “I don’t want them ‘defending my honor,’ like I'm a damsel in distress, (Y/N). I can handle myself.”

You obviously struck a chord with him, “I know you’re not a fucking damsel, Mikey. Just… do they know know that this is happening?”

Mikey sighs, and shakes his head.

“You know that it’s okay to ask for help, right? I can fuck up a few guys if you don’t wanna go to them for it. I may seem like a priss to you, but trust me.”

He shakes his head again, but for a different reason, “I don’t think you’re a priss. I think… well, I think you’re pretty rad. I saw you wear an Anthrax tee in English, so I know I can trust you.”

You laugh a bit loud at that, and tuck some of your hair behind your ear, “I didn’t realize we had English together. If I had known, I definitely wouldn’t have befriended Little Miss Sunshine up there first.”

Mikey laughs again at one of your jokes. Why did the guys say he was quiet? He seems to be pretty up front with you. As soon as you mentioned him, Frank turned around to look at you two laughing. You make eye contact with him, while Mikey picks his phone back up. Frank raises an eyebrow at the two of you.

Right as you were about to flip him off, you all arrive at whoever’s house this was. Gerard steps out of the drivers’ side, so you assume it's his and Mikey’s home. Mikey hops out of the bed first, and offers his hand to lead you down. You take it, hoping your hand isn’t as clammy as you think it is. As soon as you hit the ground, he breaks the contact, much to your disappointment. He’s cute, who could blame you!

“Alright,” Gerard pushes his hair back, “Parents are out for like, the whole week, so we can practice as loud as we want. Only risk we run is noise complaints, but who gives a shit.”

Ray and Mikey nod, and follow him. Frank, on the other hand, walks up to you, and nudges your arm, “So, you get to talking with you know who?”

“I don’t know why you feel the need to call him that,” you nod in disapproval, “But yes, I did. We had a grand ol’ time without you.”

“Jesus, he actually talked to you? Like, words and stuff?”

“Yes, why is this so weird to you? We were… joking with each other, I guess,” you wave your hands around, watching everyone walk inside, “He had a cut on his cheek and I fixed it up for him.”

Frank glances at Mikey as he walks in, and he erupts into laughter, “Holy shit, is that a girly ass bandage? God, he’s gonna get even more pummeled if he keeps that shit on.”

You punch him in the shoulder, hoping it hurt, “Dude, shut the fuck up, maybe? It’s all I had, I didn’t want him to have to… I don’t know, amputate his face!”

He puts a hand on your shoulder, “(Y/N), you are too nice for your own good. But, I’ll be real with you. Mikey needs that shit, it’s why I wanted you guys to get to talking. I mean, you like Anthrax unironically, for Christs’ sake.”

You shake your head at that, "There's nothing wrong with thrash metal, you pussy."

He moves to argue with you, but you glare at him. You push his hand off of your shoulder, and make your way inside.

“What held you guys up for so long? Busy sucking face?” Ray joked, making kissing noises, obviously knowing you were repulsed by the thought.

“You know it, Toro,” Frank winked at him, while you made fake gagging noises.

“God, is it too late to ask for a ride home?” You collapse onto the couch seat next to Gerard and Mikey.

They start to talk amongst themselves, and Mikey, as always, is playing some sort of game on his phone. You look over to Gerard and see he’s looking at you as well.

He cracks a crooked smile, “Look, sorry for being a dick at the truck, I hope you know I’m not always like that.”

You shrug, smiling, “It’s chill, kind of used to the douchebag treatment at the school, even if I’ve only been there for three days. I don’t take it personally.”

“You’ve seriously only been here for three days? You really know how to fool a guy. What brought you to our lovely part of the world?” Gerard turns to face you properly.

“Well,” you start, trying to recount the exact reasoning your mother gave you, “My parents had split, and my mom grew up here. I used to live up north in New York. Buffalo, specifically, if you care. My mom got majority custody, blah blah blah, I’m stuck in a stupid school with a stupid uniform with no friends.”

Gerard messes up your hair slightly, and stands up, “You don’t need to worry about that last part anymore. Hope you like loud music, ‘cause that’s all you’re gonna hear if you hang with us.”

You stand up, thank him, and follow him to what you assume is the garage. Mikey, of course, follows suit.


	4. Chapter 4

You would think the garage would have some hint of ever housing cars, but everything you saw here was pure music-related. Red and purple acoustic paneling covered every inch of the walls, and mock lighting lined the back wall. A lone drum kit sat in the back, and what seemed like all of their instruments were piled in bags near the door. Gerard clicks the garage door open, and slides a mic stand to the front middle. You watch as all of the guys pick out their instruments, and realize that there wasn’t anyone left to play drums.

As if you willed it, Ray walks up to you and asks, “Hey, I know this is last minute but… do you know anyone that plays drums? We’ve managed to get by fine without them, but our last drummer totally bailed on us.”

You think back to your painful, and forced, marching band days, and shrug, “I can improvise myself, if you’re really desperate. I know my way around a cymbal and snare drum.”

Ray’s eyes widen and he envelopes you in a bear hug, “Holy shit, (Y/N)! You’re a fucking godsend!”

You chuckle and hug him back, “I’ll try my best, but I wanna hear you guys without drums first, gotta get a feel for it.”

He nods and walks away to set up his amp, and tell the guys the good news. You were definitely biting off more than you can chew, but who knows, maybe Gerard and Mikey’ll let you practice on their kit. You watch as Frank makes the finishing touches on their set-up, and he flashes you a golden smile.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Gerard walks up to you, grinning, “Thanks for your offer on the drums, we really fuckin’ appreciate it. Almost had to make Frank quit rhythm guitar…”

Frank looks up from tuning his guitar,, annoyed, “Which he knows would have never happened, anyway!”

Shaking your head slightly, you reply, “It’s not an issue. Now, hurry up, I wanna hear how shit Frank sounds.”

Gerard nods, laughing a bit. He makes his way back to the mic stand, and you pull up a folding chair in the driveway.

“Alright, we’re gonna start with something a bit fast, and then something sappy,” Gerard smirks, “Both seriously depressing, though, sorry about that.”

You laugh, and give a thumbs up.

“This one’s working title is ‘Our Lady of Sorrows,’” Mikey nods to you from his mic.

Before you can smile at him, it hits you. The fast guitar from both ends of the garage, the offensive bass from Mikey, you can’t process it all. Then, Gerard’s voice comes out of nowhere. The slight whine to it, but still with a gothic edge, you’re blown away to say the least. Frank is flailing about the garage, almost knocking Gerard over. His backing vocals were scratchy, but perfect for the aggressive sound. You look over at Ray, stoic as ever, but his fingers were moving about the guitar faster than you could even process. His eyebrows were strained in concentration, and you could tell him and Frank had very different styles of playing.

You glance over to Mikey, and he was laser focused on the head of his bass. He had minimal movements, but still explored the space around him. He leaned his neck up to the ceiling, and you couldn’t help but stare. It may be personal bias, but the grit of the bass was your favorite part of their band so far. He moves his head down and looks across at you, seeming as if he was too into the music to care about eye contact. You hold it, feeling emboldened by the energy of the music.

As Gerard screamed his final note, Mikey looked down at his bass yet again, breaking the contact. Frank ended his note by jumping onto Gerard’s back, having them both collapse onto one of their amps. The static from their speakers thins out, and you jump up from the folding chair you had been glued to for the past two minutes.

“Holy shit, you guys fucking rocked it!” You practically screamed, “I never know what to expect when guys tell me they ‘have a band,’ but God, it has never turned out as good as this.”

Gerard rubbed the back of his neck, only after shoving Frank off of him, “Thank you so much, (Y/N), but come on. You’ve only heard one damn song, and there were no drums!”

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure I know where to fill in once I’m inducted into the band,” You wink at him, and sit back into the chair, but not before asking, “Oh, and Frank?”

He glances up at you from his seat on the concrete, “You gonna critique my skills or something, princess?”

“Not at all, dumbass,” You start, “I was actually gonna compliment you, same with Ray. You guys know how to perform. You guys have such different styles of playing, but you work so fucking well together.”

“I’ll save the rest of my compliments until after I hear this alleged ‘sappy’ song,” you smile, as you see Mikey look expectant.

Mikey walks up to his mic again, and mutters, “This one is called ‘Early Sunsets Over Monroeville.’”

This one was definitely different. The melodic guitar and Gerard’s surprisingly soft voice blended so sweetly together. Frank was definitely calmer for this, he nods his head slightly to every beat. You notice the scene Gerard was painting with his voice, one that was really fucking sad. It reminded you of something, but you couldn’t exactly place it.

The bass cut through everything else, in your mind. As Gerard’s voice got deeper and more angered, so did Mikey’s playing. It speeds up and up, until it suddenly falls. His voice gets strained, and a lyric sticks with you: “There’s no room in this hell, there’s no room in the next.”

That is when it hits you, this whole song is a nerdy ass homage to Dawn of the Dead. You still find yourself tearing up at the pure emotion in his voice, despite the geekiness.

Yet again, you catch your eye drifting towards Mikey, and yet again, you make eye contact. You smile at him, making sure he knows how impressed you are with his playing. He smiles back, rather shyly. As the song dies down, and Gerard’s frail voice slows, you stand up and clap.

“That was… absolutely gorgeous. I didn’t think you guys could impress me even more, after that last song,” you walk over to Gerard, and clamp your hand on his shoulder, “I do have a question though.”

Gerard raises an eyebrow, and cocks his head.

“Was that whole song a ‘Dawn of the Dead’ reference?”

Mikey and Gerard laugh rather loudly at that, and the latter decides to respond, “Was actually hoping you wouldn’t get that reference. It was mostly Mikey’s idea.”

“Oh, fuck off. We all know damn well you prefer those shitty zombie flicks, don’t pin it on me,” Mikey jokes at him, out of nowhere.

You practically giggle at that, and respond, “I see have a lot to learn about you guys. I’d definitely be down to binge the Evil Dead series sometime, if y’all wanna get super trashy.”

Frank comes up from behind you, leaning his elbow on your shoulder, and scoffs, “Bold of you to assume that we have such low standards. When are you free next?”

“Let’s talk about that later, I’m still waiting to compliment these two, come on.”

You turn to face Gerard and Mikey, the two both having their arms crossed. They do kind of look related.

“You two genuinely surprised me. The starkness of your singing between those two songs blew me away, Gee, seriously. Your songwriting is just this blend of gothic and edgy, but still so gorgeous.”

“And, Mikey,” you look him in the eyes, “You are a completely different person when you start playing, the whole demeanor changes. You really find your confidence up there. I see you guys going far, the fact that you get on so well without a fucking drummer amazes me. It’ll be hard to hold up to that.”

“Oh, shut up, (Y/N),” Gerard walks up to you, and says, rather sweetly, “You flatter us way too much, you barely know us! Now before we get all sappy and shit, you guys want food?”

The guys all murmur in agreement and head on, leaving you and Mikey to the garage, as he unplugs everything.


End file.
